


Home

by hurricanedelta



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 20:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2886329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurricanedelta/pseuds/hurricanedelta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're twenty-two and don't have a home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

You’re twelve when you kiss your best friend for the first time. You remember it well – the two of you sitting beside each other, sun fading into the ground in beams of orange and red, giving off a warmness. You’re bickering about which girls the two of you would (or in your case, wouldn’t) eat if you were ghouls, and suddenly he makes the suggestion. His excuse was “practice makes perfect, right?” at your shock. You thought about it, shrugged, and nodded, and so he leans in and kisses you.

It was a short, and sweet, and he tasted like strawberries. When you broke apart, he was laughing at your face, which was bright red. Not long after, you were laughing too, and the embarrassment left you.

~

You’re fifteen when you start to notice him a bit more. You start to notice the light freckles dotting the bridge of his nose, and his shoulders. You start to notice how whenever he is near you it’s like the sun shines through the gloom, lighting up everything around you. You start to notice the way he teases you for your odd little habits, but always cares for how you feel.

You notice how happy he makes you feel.

~ 

You’re seventeen when you start to realise your own feelings. It was a quiet, rainy day. You were at his place, and the two of you were relaxing in his room, eating chips in his room and talking about the strangest things in the world, and he was making the lamest jokes. You scoffed and told him that his jokes were the worst, but you still had a smile on your face, because no matter what you said, some of his jokes had the ability to make you smile like no other.

He moves closer to you, muttering something about how you should smile more. You look at him, unamused, and shake your head, slowly becoming hyperaware of how close he was sitting next to you. You start to notice your heart beating faster. You notice how warm he is, how his eyes look at you in concern.

You notice his newfound grin, and before you know it he’s dug his fingers into your sides, and begins tickling you. You laugh, curling into a ball, trying to push him away. He’s laughing too, continuing to tickle you. You end up giving up pushing him, leaning towards him and laughing almost hysterically. His arms were close to being around your waist, but you could barely think through the pain in your stomach, and the thumping feeling in your chest, and the warmth of him, and the strange comfort he gives you, even in this situation.

He eventually stops, and you’re still leaning against his chest as you breathe deeply, attempting to recover from that absolute torture. You tell him never to do that again, knowing full well that is a promise he absolutely won’t be able to keep. He laughs, and you feel his chest shake on your back, and you look up at his face, which in your eyes was brighter than the sun, beaming as his laughter made the thumping in your chest even worse.

~

You’re eighteen when you go on a date with a girl you’ve convinced yourself you’re infatuated with. He told you if he knew what a good date was, he wouldn’t be sitting here having a date with you, and you heart pounded, and you convinced yourself that it was because of the prospects of having a date with her. Your heart doesn’t thump when you see her, though. Your stomach has an odd feeling, which you initially thought was nerves, and when you asked her on a date you felt unnatural; out of your element. You thought it was more nerves.

The date was odd for you. You were bright, and you enjoyed the time you spent with her, but it didn’t really feel like a date. It wasn’t like you knew what a date was like, anyway, but you knew in your gut this wasn’t it. Somehow, it just wasn’t what you pictured.

Everything you did you knew you enjoyed – you’ve done it with him numerous times, going to Big Girl and having a burger, before going to a bookshop and browsing, yet it wasn’t right. It didn’t feel the same as when you went with him.

~

You’re eighteen and terrified when you realise you were right when you realised the date wasn’t right. She was a ghoul, and you were her next victim. Your blood splashed over the books from the bite she took from your shoulder, and you try and run and she catches you with her kagune, and she’s laughing manically.

You think you’re about to die, and all you can think about is how you will never see him again. How you will never see his smiling face, or hear his bright laughter, and lame jokes ever again. You shut your eyes after the big bang.

~ 

You’re a ghoul, but you’re human. You don’t belong with either. Touka threatens to kill him. He can’t know. He’ll hate you. You can’t have the only person that has made you feel this way hate you. Touka will kill him.

You push him away.

~

You’re nineteen, a ghoul, and you’ve pushed him so far away that you don’t even think about him anymore.

But you do. You think about him whenever you have a spare moment. You think about how you miss his smile, his comforting air. You think about how you denied your feelings out of fear, and how you regret that so much now.

But you don’t think about him. You try not to.

~ 

You’re nearly twenty when you see him again, and you know you could very well kill him. But you don’t. He tells you knew the whole time, and he tells you to just go home already, to go home with him, but you not long after black out.

You didn’t see him again, but you could still feel that warmth in your heart – the warmth reserved just for him.

~ 

The warmness burns out. You remember nothing.

~

You don’t remember the first twenty years of your life. You don’t know if they were good or bad, or what you were like, but you’re content with how things are now. Sort of. Not really. 

You feel like something is missing. You don’t know what – or who – this thing might be, but all you can feel is a lack of warmness, or security. A lack of a home.

But then you see him, cycling down the streets, hair like the sun and a face that hadn’t looked to have smiled for a long time, a little bit of that warmness returns. It was gone quickly when he turned the corner, but it was there. For a little while.

You’re twenty-two and you don't have a home.

**Author's Note:**

> idk?????????? its just a thing
> 
> i hope you liked it!!
> 
> edit: i drew art for it!!! you can find it here: http://doeytsukki.tumblr.com/post/121497990478/youre-fifteen-when-you-start-to-notice-him-a-bit


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